‘Bye, then.’ Lizzie does her best attempt at a smiling face and the woman beams back, eyes magnified by her thick glasses. Lizzie wants to feel a connection again, badly, but she can’t let her guard down. She did it before and look what happened. No. Her and Lenny’s safety is more important than making friends, for now. Lizzie hopes it won’t be for ever.

‘So, you’ll ask her, then?’

‘Yes.’ Another lie. She pulls open the heavy door, and a gust of sea air slaps her in the face. Cold, sharp and salty. She has one foot on the pavement outside, and is tugging at Maud, who’s growling at some wrapping paper with cats on it, when the woman says, ‘When will you pop back in? It’s her birthday soon, my niece, and it might take a while to make.’

‘I don’t know.’ Lizzie thinks about Lenny and his creative excuses. ‘She’s very busy. Knitting takes a long time, and she has arthritis, although knitting is good for arthritis.’

‘Right. Well. You just let me know, then.’

‘The first knitting union was for men only. When it was first started in Paris, in 1527, no women were allowed.’

‘Is that a fact?’

‘Yes.’ Lizzie never lies about facts.

‘Well I never. You learn something new every day.’ The woman beams at Lizzie now, her rheumy eyes squinting behind those specs.

Once out of the shop, Lizzie rips off the scarf and shoves it into her bag. She’s cold again within seconds, but wearing it is risky. A small-talking point.

She marches up to the school, faster than Maud would like, and lurks at the back of the playground, hoping to grab Lenny and go. Not wanting to see Mr Williams and not sure why. ‘No dogs allowed,’ comes a voice from behind her, and Lizzie turns to see the caretaker. ‘You’ll have to tie her to the gate, love, same as everyone else.’ No doubt he sees Lizzie as another overly precious mother, a law unto herself.

‘But she’s not mine,’ Lizzie says. ‘Statistically, there is a high chance she’ll run off if I leave her. Or someone could take her. I’m currently testing her abilities. She’s more intelligent than she appears.’

The caretaker looks at Maud briefly, then tuts and tells Lizzie she’ll have to stay back until the playground is empty. Then she can take the dog to the door. From a duchess to a pariah in less than ten minutes, Lizzie thinks. Welcome to my world.

‘Or I can send your son out to you. What does he look like?’

Lizzie can see that he wants to help, knows she’s being awkward again, but she can’t help it. ‘No.’ Lenny wouldn’t like that at all. He’ll want to see her face in the crowd. He’ll be looking out for her. ‘I’ll wait till the end.’